The Internet Box Anthology of Horror
by doctor b. broseph
Summary: The cast of the Internet Box Podcast experience eight terrifying tales of horror, from haunted Pokemon cartridges and unruly cats, to bone-eating skeletons and cannibalism.
1. Pokemon Blood Red Version

_**Pokémon Blood Red Version**_

It was a quiet Saturday morning. Kerry was driving down the streets of Austin, Texas having returned from a trip to the store. He had gone on behalf of his girlfriend, who had required him to pick up various hygiene products and groceries while she was out.

On his return home he had decided to take the scenic route, rocking out to some tunes while roaming the mean streets. He was nearly home when a sign caught his eye.

It read, 'Garage Sale, 13 Holtey Street, cheap loot.'

Knowing he had little planned for the rest of the day, Kerry decided to check it out. He probably wouldn't buy anything, but it might be cool to check it out.

As he arrived at the address, Kerry noted it was a building he had passed many times prior and always assumed to be abandoned. The house was run-down, and looked likelier to house marijuana then people. Still, the garage was opened, and an old man was sitting on behind a small desk he had placed out front.

Kerry got out of the car and approached slowly. Piles of junk were haphazardly strewn all over the driveway. There didn't seem to be any kind of categorisation at work.

He was a little nervous about approaching the strange old man, but decided it was just a simple walk into the garage. If things got too hot to handle, surely "Dragonface" could handle this.

Summoning all his swagger, he sauntered up to the desk.

"Uh, hi. Is this the garage sale?"

The old man squinted at Kerry a moment, studying his face intently. He rose to his feet, stretching his back as he did so.

"Kerry. I've been expecting you."

Kerry gasped.

"How did you know my name?"

"My grandson watches a lot of your Rooster Teeth shows. You know, on the computer net or whatever."

"Oh," responded Kerry, "but wait, how did you know I'd be here?"

The old man remained silent, digging through one of the piles at the back. Kerry wondered if he hadn't heard him but before he could respond, the old man triumphantly pulled out what looked like a red square from the pile.

"This should tickle your fancy. No charge."

He tossed it to Kerry. Kerry looked down and observed it. It was a Gameboy Colour cartridge, what appeared to be a copy of Pokémon Red. Kerry immediately noticed two things; that it was labelled 'Blood Red' and that the cover art was a pictured of a decapitated Charizard.

"Oh," started Kerry, "Cool. I love Pokemon… So is this a hack or…"

He trailed off noticing that the old man had disappeared. Kerry peered around, confirming the old man had indeed wandered off and then feeling it wouldn't be right to take the game without paying, placed some cash on the desk before driving off.

* * *

When Kerry arrived home, he deposited the groceries into the kitchen and then retired to his bedroom. On a desk lay his old Gameboy.

Nostalgia filled Kerry's being as he decided to place the sketchy cartridge into his Gameboy. It'd been a while since he'd played the original Pokémon games.

At first the game seemed normal enough. But when Professor Oak came to ask for his name, he instead asked, "Do you bleed?"

Kerry raised a sceptical eyebrow and replied, "Yes."

He continued playing, choosing Charmander as his starter and fighting his rival's Squirtle. However he noted a major change in the gameplay in that rather than fainting, defeated Pokémon splattered their blood and guts all over the screen.

Captured Pokémon were bruised and broken, and defeated trainers seemed similarly affected. While a little unnerved, Kerry persisted until the first gym battle with Brock.

As soon as Kerry began to talk with Brock, the screen flickered and glitched. Errant pixellations swarmed the text box as Brock began to speak.

"I̜͍̖͕͠'̭̙̝m̵͙̟̀͝ ͚͔̥̮͇̞́̀͡B̡̰̩̹̼̣̹̞͖͎͡ṛ̫̩̟͘o̶̬͙͍̭͔̰͙͎͢c̲̳̫̗̘͇͕k̳̜̝̞̲!҉͓̘̩̮̰͚̝̱̮ ̸̢̛̤̹̖̯̖̦͈ͅI̥̺̺̗̼͡'̪̱̣̫̰̰͝m҉҉͏͚͎̪̮̮͖ ̫͔̩͎̗̺͎͕̘̀͜P̶̢̡͉̫̱͔̞̦̰è̡̘͚͝w̷̡̟̘̼͎̲t̡̝͎̣̞e̹̭̙̗̜̘̬͚̬r̫̰̲'͏̢̦͖͓̱͚̰̻́s̛҉͓̤ ̵̪̬͉̦͔͈̩́G̨̦̦̝̞͖y҉̪͍̠̘̼̱̺ḿ̯̞̭͙̜̳ ̴̗͈̰̘͠Ļ̜̺̗̗̙͞e̗͈͇͓̞̯͚͙a̢͕̯͖d̶̠̥̖͜e̡̫̪͘r҉̛̪̮̩͖̦̥͈!̛̱̦͍̳̟̝̥͈͜ ̜͍̞̣̝͡ͅÌ̡̹̺ ̛̛̺̦̤b͖̳̠͖͖͟e̗̞l̡̨̹̰̬͠į͎̙̱̞͓̥͎ę̴̲͔̞̜̘ͅv̗̬͇̹͕̖̥̀ę̛̹̠̠̪̠̯̩̺ ̴̳̱̮͝ͅi͏̷̣͓̜̳̣͠n̸̨͖̬͚̳͖͚̩ ͈̟̜̗͙͇ŗ̺̞̼̱͡͞o͖̜̲̯̳c̸̙̙̳̟̝k͎̀͟͡ ̨͎̘ͅh̵̷͚̺̩̤̲ͅa̠̝̞̼̹̠̬̞͘r͎̭͚͚̩ͅd̞̦̬̠̖͉̻̰ ̭̲̣̥͔̻̻̥̳͠d̶͈̘͓̖͙͎̰͍͟e̷̹̝̘̬͈̕ͅf̭̹͚̭ͅe̴̡҉̰̟̝̠̟̫̪ͅń̸̠̻̜͍̭̮̘s҉̦͖̬̼͚é̗͉ ̛̻̖̥̭̘̯̮̺á̕͏̥̤n̶̸̛̩͉͎d̷̨͕̘̣̪̲̞̬ ҉̷͚͙͕d͙̺̪̝͟è̢͍͕̜̭̳͍͔͘t̹è̡̟͖r͏̗̗͖͇͝m̸̼̱͈͍̱̤̭͜͡i̷̢͕͕n̢̥̠̠̫͉̣̥̙͚͘a̧̱͉͠t̛̲͈i͍͓̯̱̭o̥̳̜̺̼̜ṇ̢̀!̷̸͕̲̟͕́ͅ T͋͆̀̿ͭ̔͊̃̏͏҉̺̫͠ḩ͈̻͎͉̭̠͛̍ͪ͛̈́a̗̩̗̤̾̇t̯̫̭̠̞͋ͬ͠'̢̙͈͕̞ͦͪ̉̐ͭ́̃͢͡ś͎͇͉̔ͧ̀ ̷̷̖͙̭͓̠͊̿̽ͨ͌ͫ͐̓ͧw̶̲͇͓̪̫̩͔̟ͯͤ̋ͣ̐͊h̹̟͚̤̹̽͂̈͋̆͂ͨý̭̯̟̭̖̄̈́̓̈́ ̶̶̭ͮ̒ͣ̍̓m͖̹̱͍̞̃ͅy̡͖̼͉͔̮̦͓̥̍ͧ̒͂ͦͦ́ ̶̛̘͙͔̺̟̪̌̂̋̅͟P̑͋ͩ̊͊͑ͣ̿̇҉͕̣̲̪̮̭oͭ͆̓̄̋̓̒̂ͦ͏҉͎̠̟͍̜̲̞k̇̂͌ͤͭ̄̀̚͏̙̱̮͍̥é̻͈̼͎͖̯͉̯̜͌̇͛̓̋m̴̧͙̙̭̩̩̙͚͎̦͌ͧ̅̍ͭ̚͜o͙͕̬͙͖͈̼͉̪ͭ̄͂ͩ̃̀̕͜n̷̲̋̚ ̶̗̖͇̱̏̔͘͟ạ̢̨̹̥ͬ̋͛̈́̊̉͌̽̏͡r̯͎̉̔̓͋ͥ̅̿ͫę̶̛͉͙̠̟̳͔̬̑̓͒̾͐ͦ ͚̟͙̰̾ͨͥͬ̈́ͤ̀̚͘͞ȁ͖̟̍͞ͅͅl̗̥͙̫̟̲̜͖͖̆̑ͮ͠l̵̜͉̟̠̻͇̯̃̊́͞ ̹̗͓͍̬ͪ͑̈͐ͤ̊́t̷͚͇͇̖͉͚̮̙̓́͋ͧ̚̕͢ḧͩͧ͐̽̐̎͋҉͔ͅͅe̵̬̼̝͉ͣ̆̇͛̈̇̍̎͡ ̨̦̩̘ͦ͊ͣͥ͡R̢̢̮̼͚͕̲̄ͯ̋́́ͅo̝̞̜̬̘̜͒ͥ̾͋̓͐ͪ́̕c̯͚̳̱̘̋̌ͤ̏̚k̵̡̬̖̘̰̦̗̝̼ͬͪ̑̃̄̌̓̈͊-̪̭̪́ͩ̅tͦ̒͟͏̥͉y̤͇͋́̌͆̅̎͆͐ͩp̗̙̒ͦ̍̓͌̚e̸͉̻͈͈̫͖͕͚ͦͮ͆!̢͖͖͙̥̜̩̻̰̩̓̋ͫ̾ ̘̼͕̩̭̘̹̹ͨͧD̓͑ͭ̑ͯ҉̡̥̘͓͘o̸̯̲̝̘͊ͮ̎̓̓̾͜ ̸͚̙̱̮͎̋́́̕ͅy̗̝̘̣̍̋̂ͫ͌ͨ̓̂̐͜͢ơͪ͑͏͕̮̯̜̣̩̙̘̪u̫̮̰̳̦̰̩̘̖͂̋ͦ ̮̣͋̓ͨ͐ș̱͎̥̹̮͈͐ͧ͊ͨ̌ͮ̎̏t̸̻̥̦͔̂̂͊̀i͆̌́ͭ͌͆̿҉̠̯͕̺̹̮l̵͈̼̫͉̬̩̗̠ͤͤ͛ͥ̿̈̿̚l̪̻̳͙͕̰̬̋ͦ̿̿ͣ͊ͫ̎̕͜͡ ̧̧̮͖̺̪̣̯͔͒̆ͦw̷̠̻̼̳͕͓͋ͣ́͜a͐̎͂͊ͩͭ̃͏̩͍̙͈͙ͅn̡̮͕̗̱̤̖̬̖̳ͭ̆ͨ̏͆̎ͪ͌t̐̃҉̲̤̖̮͓̹͡ͅ ͈̝̦̄ͪ͗́̽̓̈͞t̷͕͕̻̰̼̠̽ͣͧ͐͋͜o̤̼͙̦͕̰ͭ̂͑ ̫̲͖̠̤̙͛͊̀ͥ́ͮ̒̓ͅͅc̰͚̤̃̆̂̅͆̌͐͟h̻̦̭̜̼͕̤ͩ̅͗̅ͬ̔à̵̫̦̫̘̱̈ͅl̔̾́ͩ̌̀͏̩̤̣̞͕ḻ̷̮̪͚͑͐ͬͯ̎͐ͦͩ͜͟e̴̙̍̔̐̀ͥ̕̕n̡̢̗͔̼ͯ͌̌g̸̷̍̏ͩ͑͐̎͏͓̬̥e̜̣̥̤̫͑͌ͮ̚ ̸͑̋̒ͪͧ̃ͤ̽͏̹͇͓͓m̛̳̺͕͎̜̰̔͊̇̒ͭ͋ͫ̐͞͞ḛ̦̭͔͖̠͗ͦͪ̈͢?̶ͮ̍̑̄͋͛̉ͨͣ͞҉̗̻̗̫̠̰͖̘ ͙̣̺͑ͨ̒̒̔͌͠F̵̶͔͎̯̼̻̳̐ͧ͑ï҉͚̼͢ň͍̟̣̟̺̳͉̒̌ͅe̷͉͎̰̠̊͑̆ͮ̂͒̈́ ̶̴̝͕̃͒̑͑̕t̴̪̣̺̣̺͈̱̺̍̽͂͝͝h̠͙̳̣͙̥̹ͩ͋̌ͧ͘ͅe̟͖͙̜̥̞͖̳ͬ̍͛ͩ̎̓͘͟n̼̠̻͓͗̽!̧̦̱̦̘͛͑̓̔ͩ̽̎̚̕͠ ̴̥̩̙̮̩͋̐̇̔͟͜Ş̛̝̹̤̠͈͇̤̮̩̦̱̠̙̤͈̪̰̮̼̓̄̾̂̅̀̊͊̅h̴͉̙̰̪̠̮̹̠̘̜̺̭̯̱̞̑͂̆̔͂ͣ̾͊ͥ͊̈́͂̆̈́͂̚͟͝ǫ̶͍̯̠̘̲̒̏͐̉ͦ̉̚͝w̷̡̨͎̫͖͖͎̝̍ͭ̌̚͠ ̷̢̹͓͖̘͉̱̩̩̖͓̝̜̠͖̜͔͐̌͗ͨ̈͆͗̓̉ͥ̃̏̌͂͝m̸̨̮̟̺̱̃̂͊ͩ͂ͤͪ̽͌̀͋ͨ̓ͫ̒͜͠ẽ̵̡̧̜̲̼̖̣͔̟̩͓̲̻̭͙̗̟ͣ͑̿ͧͬ̆͜͡ ̵̯̪̺̜̟̫̯͙̜̠̰͙̻̦͙̫̠̻ͯ͛̔ͫ͘͞ͅy̠̜̟͉̜̝͉̩͔ͥ̉̑ͯͨ̒ͦ̊̾͆̄ͤ͜͝ͅơ̸̧̛͙̞̯̥͓̱̮̻̱ͧ͆̽ͣͥu̢̓̌͊ͯͥ҉̷̨͎̭̮̭̣̭͇͈̤͎͇ṟ̣̺̰͚͓̖̒ͯͭ̇ͦ̔ͥ͛̓̽̿ͫ͠͡ ̸̢̰̦͍̩̅͋̾͆͂͒̍̚̚͢͞b̸̢͖̜̘̭̈́̍ͭ̔ͬ̐̽̉̚ê̡̨̙̟̫̼̮̦̰̳̻̦͉̦̱̏̃̓ͩ̓͟ͅs̡͓͖̖̤̯̘̹͕̍ͪ͐ͤ̆͋ͯͭ̂̓̔̿̍͗ͥ̍́̚͢ͅtͮͤ̒ͤ̐ͬ͒̐ͤ̄̽̔ͪ̃̾̑͊̍҉͘҉̭̝̺͎̖̞̝̗̖̜͈͓!̨̍̒ͯ͌͌̇̄͛̂̇ͣ̈͊̅͞͏͔̠̼̮̥͓̟̦̬͉̞͟

Blood began to ooze from the Gameboy's screen, while the sprites slowly transformed into hyper realistic imagery. The sprites of his party turned into images of the Pokémon's corpses, feebly twitching in various states of mangled assault. It looked so real, Kerry thought, it was incredible to think the Gameboy could've had this kind of resolution.

"What is this, 1080p?" he muttered under his breath.

The corpse of his Charmander flopped feebly to the side, a sickening crunch following every wriggle it attempted. His Pidgey and Caterpie seemed to be dragging their entrails behind them. His Rattata had somehow been decapitated.

It was also a little creepy that this hacked copy of the game was literally oozing blood, Kerry thought to himself.

"That's enough Pokémon for today," he decided, switching off the console.

To his surprise, the game remained on. The blood from the screen was now forming a small pool on his floor.

"Hmm, guess I should just pull out the cartridge?" Kerry pondered to himself, removing it with a swift motion.

The screen remained unchanged.

Kerry stepped backward to avoid the rapidly growing puddle at his feet. Flipping the Gameboy over, he quickly removed the batteries.

The game let out a resounding shriek, blood now gushing out the screen. It was damned unsanitary.

Kerry was more than a little perturbed at this point. Of all the gifts he had ever received from RT fans, this was probably in the bottom tier.

Concerned with how his girlfriend would react to an impromptu dyeing of his carpet, Kerry ran to the window and lobbed the game onto the street below. The Gameboy bounced onto the road, blood propelling it across like an unruly hose. Or a blood rocket.

The Gameboy ricocheted past, coating windshields and unsuspecting Texans with its stream. People began to scream and run, unable to deal with the gory, red bukkake they had become unwilling participants in.

Kerry watched as the crimson streams stretched out into the distance, red miles covering Austin with rusty streaks. It was equally parts beautiful and horrifying.

"Oh well," thought Kerry, "Not my problem anymore. I'm done with this. Period."

Somewhere in the distance, Barbara stirred.


	2. Cat Chat

_**Cat Chat**_

"Michael, you gotta wake up man."

Michael blinked in the darkness, propping himself up on the bed. He looked to the clock on his bed-stand, swearing up a storm.

"Andrew, it's too fucking early for this shit. I don't care if you had a nightmare, or you shat the bed… You didn't shit the bed did you?"

"Michael, stop. This is serious."

Michael sighed. He could tell by the tone in Andrew's voice that he was not trying to start a ruckus.

He turned to face the red silhouette at the foot of the bed reluctantly.

"Alright Andrew? What's the deal here?"

"I uh… think you should get out of bed first."

Michael frowned.

"What? Why?"

"Because," murmured Andrew, "I don't want to spook the cats wearing Lindsay's skin."

"The cats wearing Lindsay's… what?" Michael began before the bed began to shake. The bed sheet began to writhe and suddenly erupted as Lindsay's figure buckled and gave way to a veritable tsunami of cats.

Michael and Andrew screamed in unison as the furry torrent blasted them back. Whiskers and fur filled the apartment before the windows finally gave way, felines gushing out of all available exits.

When the cat torrent finally died down, the apartment was empty. All that was left was a single green striped sock and a nyan cat bracelet.


	3. Two of Me and One of Man (Bones Trilogy)

_**Two of Me and One of Man**_

It was a dark and stormy night; the air was moist with cliché. As lightning crashed overhead, Sonny88p sat at his computer.

On the screen flickered a picture of Barbara, the object of his indifferent affection?

Sonny88p unzipped his pants slowly, considering whether or not the picture would suffice, after all he wasn't really feeling it. I mean, people think she's pretty hot but personally I don't see it, Sonny88p thought to himself, she's like the Brad Pitt of Roosterteeth.

Still, he thought to himself, he'd already submitted like twenty questions to the Internet Box podcast, might as well knock one out while he was there.

As he reached downward, he was stopped by a faint knocking.

Sonny88p paused. He was home alone and wasn't expecting anyone to arrive. So who could possibly be visiting at this time of the night? It was much too late to start anything and an unreasonable hour to drop by out of the blue.

Slowly, he slunk out of his chair and peeped through the peep-hole.

His jaw slackened, as did his grip around his flaccid member.

It was Barbara.

"B-barbara?" he stammered, "Did I just see that?"

Personally, he did see it. And there she was, standing outside alone in the dark.

Sonny88p opened the door a sliver.

"Barbara? Barbara from the Internet Box is that you?"

"Yes Sonny," smiled the blonde, "It's me. I've come for you."

"For me?" he asked.

"Yes," she whispered huskily, "I'm very attracted to you. You're so cool and detached and your use of negging and emotional manipulation is pretty hot."

Sonny88p weighed his options. She was no Emma Watson, but it wasn't like she was Maggie Gyllenhaal level either.

"Alright come in," he shrugged, "we can make out on the couch."

Barbara smiled, and the pair went down on the couch.

As things started to get thick and heavy, Sonny88p's phone began to ring.

Sonny88p reached into his pocket, breaking away from Barbara who looked a little miffed. But whatever, her makeout skills were only like an 8/10 anyway.

He answered it.

"Hey Sonny88p here. Who's this?"

"This is Barbara," replied a familiar voice, "What are you doing with my doppelganger?"

"You can't be Barbara," scoffed Sonny88p, "Barbara's already here on the couch."

"No, she isn't."

Sonny88p gasped. The voice on the phone was right; Barbara wasn't on the couch anymore. She appeared to have vanished.

"But then who was on the couch?" Sonny88p asked quizzically, quickly surveying the room.

He noticed a closet door was slightly ajar.

"I think she fled into the closet. I'm going in."

"Wait Sonny88p-" Barbara began before he cut her off.

"Look, Barbara, if something happens to me…"

"Yes?"

Sonny88p took a deep breath to steady his resolve.

"Remember me as a hero and not someone who basically stole other people's questions and passed them off as my own. Also sorry about the whole 'Brad Pitt' thing. I still don't think you're hot though."

"Oh fuck off," Barbara snorted and then hung up.

Sonny88p shrugged, whatever bitch, I gotta deal with the closet situation.

He slowly approached the closet, grasping the handle with his left hand and the phone with his right. He yanked the door open with one swift pull.

A skeleton fell out and then it ate him.

It ate all of him, even the bones.


	4. Dylon M for Murder (Bones Trilogy)

_**Dylon I: Prevengeance**_

Snow fell thick and heavy in Canada. It was the dead of winter, which was convenient because for Dylon, one of the cast members of the popular podcast _Internet Box_, it was about to be the dead of him.

Awkward phrasing aside, Dylon himself was unaware of his impending doom. Perhaps if he was, he would have put down the scissors he was holding and given them a suspicious glare.

As it was, Dylon cut into some fabric totally unaware that within 276 words, he would be dead.

He was quite busy, trying to make his newest cosplay.

He planned to make an exact replica of the outfit worn by Eren Jaeger, protagonist of the popular anime called _Shingeki No Kyojin_, also known as _Attack on Titan_ by non-weeaboos.

Steadying his hands, he carefully sliced through the fabric.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

With total concentration, he was able to neatly cut out what he needed in its exact shape.

Placing the fabric aside, he prepared for another scissoring. This would require all of his concentration as he was about to attempt a complicated manoeuvre, known as the Dual Scissor Strike.

It required him to cut twice into the fabric while wielding two scissors at once. Only the most powerful of cosplayers could pull it off successfully.

Dylon had only done it once before and had nearly failed with dire consequences.

Sweat dripping down his brow, he prepared himself, flexing his hands and snapping his fingers.

He could do this.

He would do this.

He picked up both scissors, and touched tips with them. He then placed them on the fabric, both scissors perpendicular to each other.

Steadying his breathing, he paused a moment before strike.

Snip. Snip. Squelch. Crunch.

Dylon recoiled in horror, realising too late that he had made a grave mistake.

The scissors were meant to be parallel to each other, not perpendicular.

The perpendicular scissors had crossed each other's paths, and caught up in the heat of the moment, Dylon had accidently amputated both of his hands.

He gasped down at the two bloody stumps at the ends of his arms and passed out.

Needless to say, he bled out within minutes.

_**Dylon II: The Revengeance**_

When Dylon awoke, it was to great surprise.

"My hands…" he groaned sorely, "they're… still there?"

"Oh you're awake," came a quiet voice from the next room, "You got all your bits then?"

Dylon patted himself down, confirming he was completely intact.

"Mike, is that you?"

Mike came bursting into the room, smiling creepily.

"You're alive! It worked!"

Dylon blinked confusedly.

"What worked? Why are you even here Mike? What's going on?"

Mike smiled.

"So, I was like visiting your house and whatever, and I walked in and you were lying dead on the ground. It looked like you cut off your hands or whatever so I decided to revive you with dark magic."

"Dark magic? What the hell are you talking about, Mike?"

Mike shrugged.

"I like, found a dark tome of the dead. Called like the Necronomicon or some shit, and I figured what the hell? So I spoke the magic words, these like skeletons or something crawled out of the carpet and they brought you back to life by like breathing smoke into your mouth."

Dylon shuddered involuntarily.

"So where are the skeletons now?"

Mike pointed downward.

"I guess they went back to Hell or whatever. They patched up the carpet though."

"So you summoned Hell skeletons to resurrect me, just because?"

Mike smiled goofily.

"It worked didn't it?"

"Yeah," conceded Dylon, "but at what cost? Is my soul like doomed now or something? Am I gonna turn into a demon or Hell skeleton or something?"

Mike shrugged.

"You thirsty at all?" Mike asked, offering Dylon a mug.

Dylon took the mug absentmindedly, still in shock.

"Cheers," Dylon smiled between sips, "Thanks for reviving me anyway. I-"

Dylon began choking. Mike's smile slipped.

"You alright dude?"

Dylon glanced at the mug. It was filled with ultra-concentrated milk. Dylon recognised the drink anywhere.

"You idiot, I'm lactose intolerant. This is ultra-condensed milk, that's like cyanide to me!"

"Oooooohhhh," gasped Mike, "Do you need me to call a doctor or-"

"Yes, call a doctor!" rasped Dylon, breathing shallowly.

"Wait a minute," realised Mike, "I could just revive you again. We don't even need to involve the authorities."

Dylon would have cursed Mike, but by this point, the ultra-condensed milk had finally reached all veins within his blood stream.

As his vision faded to black, he watched Mike wave to him as he slunk to the floor.

_**Dylon III: Revengeance Unchained**_

"Dylon… you okay buddy?"

Dylon stirred, groggily stumbling to his feet.

"Ugh, I feel like death," he gurgled, brushing a bony hand against his skull.

If he had still had eyes, they would have widened.

"Uh, Mike," Dylon stuttered, "Am I a fucking skeleton now?"

"Hey man, resurrections aren't exactly an exact science. In fact, science ain't even a part of it. It's more magic really. Dark magic."

"Shut up Mike," scoffed Dylon, "Just shut up and tell me why I'm a skeleton now."

"Well, uh I guess it's because this time you weren't just dead for a few hours. It's been more like… uh… two or three days."

Dylon would have blinked in confusion if he had still had eyelids. As it was, he just looked rather vacant. In fairness, skeletons aren't that expressive.

"What the hell Mike? You waited three days to resurrect me?"

Mike shrugged.

"I didn't think it would be a big deal. I mean, you came back with hands last time right? Even though you amputated yourself Rin-style."

"One, I don't understand the reference, two, you completely fucked up Mike. I can't be a skeleton for the rest of my life-"

"Well technically, you're not alive per se, more of an und-"

"Mike, shut the fuck up. I'm fucking bones now. How am I supposed to live a normal life like this?"

Mike shrugged again.

"I dunno, you can still like edit the podcast and watch _Attack on Titan_ or whatever. I mean, just because you don't have eyes anymore doesn't mean you can't see me right."

While correct, Dylon felt Mike was still missing the point.

"Mike, I can't be a fully functional member of society as a skeleton. Hell, what are my family going to say? What will my girlfriend say?"

"Pretty sure you can still _bone_ her," smirked Mike, before Dylon hit him with a swift right-hook.

"This isn't funny Mike," growled Dylon, "I don't even know how being a skeleton is going to affect me. I mean, I don't have guts anymore. Can I even still eat food? Do I even still need food?"

Mike glanced around nervously.

"Well, I uh… guess as long as you get a decent amount of calcium…"

"Yeah, calcium Mike?" screamed Dylon bloodcurlingly, "You want me to eat bones, Mike? Because I'll eat bones Mike. In fact, I might know where to start."

"Whoa Dylon," stuttered Mike nervously, "You uh… don't mean eating children's teeth right?"

Dylon's skull formed a horrific visage of a smile.

"Oh no Mike, I'm strictly restricting myself to bones."

Mike gulped as Dylon descended upon him.

The skeleton formerly known as Dylon made quick work of Mike. Mike screamed as Dylon tore into him, swallowing large chunks that fell through his ribcage pointlessly.

Dylon wolfed down Mike, eating all of him.

Even the bones.

"Especially the bones," Dylon whispered under his breath, as he walked away into the dark night.


	5. You Only YOLO Once (Bones Trilogy)

_**EAT BONES**_

"So uh, you guys still want to do the podcast this week or not?"

The question hung in the air like a bad smell. Ray, Kerry and Barbara exchanged meaningful glances as they sat around the recording equipment.

"I mean Andrew, Mike, Lindsay and Michael are all dead," clarified Barbara, "And well, Dylon is…"

She paused momentarily, as though searching for the right words to describe the situation.

"I mean, Dylon is a skeleton now. How did that even happen?"

"I think he choked to death on ultra-condensed milk. Or was it ultra-concentrated milk?"

"Aren't they like the same thing?" asked Kerry.

"Nah," said Barbara, "Ultra-condensed milk is just ordinary milk that's been heavily condensed whereas ultra-concentrated milk is like… super milk."

"Thanks for clearing that up Barbara," scoffed Ray, "But that doesn't change the fact that like five of our cast members are dead. And you know even though Dylon is the least dead, he's a bone hungry monster now. Didn't he eat Sonny88p or something, Barbara?"

"Yeah," she sighed, "He stole a bunch of my clothes and has been seducing Internet Box fans disguised as me. He's eaten like M4xwell, Voodoosoup, SpongeyGString, Korporal_kitty, aWSOMN360 and even RedBlood801."

"Oh no, not RedBlood801!" sobbed Kerry.

"Yeah, dude's eaten a lot of dudes off of CHAT. Dylon's got a real hankering for bones," mused Ray quietly.

"We should probably do something about it. Otherwise we're down to a three man podcast," said Kerry, "Well two of man and one of Barbara at least."

"Funny you should say that," said Ray with a flourish, "Look what a fan sent in."

In his hands, Ray presented what appeared to be a big, red button. It glinted in the light, cheekily as though suggesting good times to be had by all.

"So basically this guy from the Institute of Time is a fan of our podcast and sent this to me with a note saying that this thing is a Reset Button. Basically, this thing allows us to go back in time and 'reset' history."

"Ray, that's crazy talk," scoffed Barbara.

Kerry nodded. It did indeed sound pretty crazy.

"Nah, I'm going to test it out in a few seconds. Future Me's hanging out in the next room."

Another Ray appeared in the doorframe and waved to the three.

"Hey guys, it's me, Future Ray. I'll be here to take over after Ray goes back to the past."

"Cheers Future Ray," smiled Past Ray as he prepared to press the button, "I'll be you soon."

He pushed the button and with a flash, disappeared into the past.

Future Ray (who was now Present Ray) pulled up a chair.

Barbara and Kerry shared looks and Kerry said, "Well I'm convinced. So how are you going to use the button to fix this?"

Ray tapped his chin a moment, lost in thought.

"Well let's see what I've got to fix. I've got to go back 6 weeks to make sure Michael, Andrew and Lindsay don't die in that horrific cat-related accident and then I've got to wait it out for a fortnight and stop Mike from purchasing the Necronomicon from his local book store. Also, I should make sure Dylon doesn't kill himself trying that weird scissor thing. The Dual Scissor Sister Special or whatever he calls it."

"Dual Scissor Slice?" offered Barbara.

"Nah, it's like the Double Scissor Caesarean," said Kerry.

Ray shrugged.

"Whatever. I'll just do all that and then head back here to check that it all worked out. So see you in a couple of minutes."

He pushed the button.

* * *

_Minutes later…_

Ray entered the room triumphantly. Sitting at the table was Michael, Barbara, Kerry, Lindsay, Barbara, Mike and Dylon.

"Everyone all right? I saved everyone right?" asked Ray hesitantly, "Something doesn't seem quite right here… Why are there two Barbaras?"

The Barbaras shrugged.

"We don't know. You must have fucked up somehow."

"Shit," cursed Ray, "I must have fucked up Andrew's timeline or something."

"Well did you mess something up when you fixed that cat-related accident or whatever?" asked Kerry.

"What? Oh right, yeah that was this whole deal where these weird alley cats turned Lindsay's emotional love of cats into a literal portal to a universe filled to the brim with cats and summoned a horde of these cats to- Eh, it's a long story. The point is, I used the Necronomicon I stole from Mike to erase that universe from existence with Andrew's help… Oh wait…"

Ray paused momentarily.

He pulled out the eldritch tome and flicked through the pages quickly.

"Oh. So I guess I accidentally turned Andrew's soul into a whole soul-anchor thing and then I guess when I destroyed the cat universe, Andrew went with it."

"That makes sense," added Dylon.

"The flawless logic of that aside," said Michael, "Why does that mean there are two Barbaras now?"

"Maybe it's like a glitch in the Matrix," offered Lindsay, "Like it duplicated Barbara to make up for the lack of Andrew."

"You'd have thought one of us would have been duplicated," smirked Mike, "I mean, you're no Andrew, Barbara. Face it, you're like a Dylon level _Internet Box_ cast member."

"Oooh, get faced."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean!?"

Ray smiled as his friends began bickering between themselves.

He had a feeling that everything would work out just fine.

"But seriously, we should probably try and bring back Andrew somehow."

Ray sighed.

"Yeah, fair enough."


	6. They Live (This Time)

_**They Live (This Time)**_

Andrew was playing in the living room, totally pwning _Halo 4_ on legendary. He was practically committing genocide of the Flood; his skills were so off the hook that the hook was at this point, functionally non-existent. Fact of the matter was that the hook was never coming back, kind of like Ray's real dad.

Andrew paused momentarily, that last line was probably out of line.

Eh, he thought to himself, not like Ray was ever going to read his thoughts.

At that moment, his thoughts were interrupted by a call from downstairs.

"Yo Andy, get your ass in here."

Andrew frowned; he thought Lindsay and Michael had gone to the Roosterteeth office already?

"Coming," Andrew ejaculated, as he paused the game and leapt from the couch.

He ran downstairs, a red blur hurtling down the stairs.

As he was running down the hallway, the cupboard door opened and a hand reached out and pulled him in.

It was Lindsay.

She whispered to Andrew, "Don't go into your bedroom. I heard it too."

Andrew frowned, "What? It's just Michael, right?"

Lindsay shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess."

Andrew brushed her off and confidently walked into the room.

"Oh shit, that ain't Michael," he gasped, as he burst into the room, "And who are you, little fella?"

"You don't recognise me," smiled the mysterious stranger, "Perhaps you'll recognise me if I step into the light."

The shadowed figure then stepped into the light, revealing his features.

Andrew gasped.

"It's Ted Bundy, an American serial killer, rapist, kidnapper, and necrophile who assaulted and murdered numerous young women and girls during the 1970s and possibly earlier."

"Yep," confirmed Ted Bundy, the criminal believed to have died January 24, 1989 (aged 42), "And I'm here to kidnap, kill, maybe commit a little necrophilia and chew bubblegum. And I'm all out of bubblegum."

"Shoutout to John Carpenter's _They Live_," snickered Andrew.

"I don't understand the reference," replied Bundy blankly.

"Huh, really?" Andrew said quizzically, "That's like a direct quote."

Bundy shrugged, "I figured it was from Duke Nukem."

"No, they were referencing _They Live_. That's where it's from originally."

"Whatever, I don't really give a shit about your shitty movies."

Andrew scowled.

"You wanna badmouth John Carpenter? You're the most cold-hearted son of a bitch I've ever met. You're the very definition of heartless evil."

"Andrew, I have no idea what you mean…" he replied in a flat, calm voice.

"I don't like this one bit. Not one bit," Andrew sighed. It was useless trying to argue with the unusually organized and calculating criminal.

"So you were going to murder me or what then?"

Bundy surveyed the room briefly.

"You alone?"

Andrew nodded.

"Fair enough," Bundy said, "Let's make this happen."

"I'll allow it," Andrew replied compulsively.

At that moment, Lindsay burst into the room with a sub-machine gun and gunned down Bundy in a blazing storm of hot lead.

"No, you bitch-" screamed Bundy, as he was obliterated totally and utterly.

Lindsay blew smoke off the tip of the sub-machine gun and whipped out a pair of sunglasses.

"Hey Bundy, life's a bitch… and she's back in heat."

Andrew nodded his head respectfully. Pretty legit comeback, he thought to himself.

Bundy twitched on the ground, bleeding out slowly.

"I- I ain't d-d-dead yet… you sons of bit-"

Bang.

Andrew put away his pistol.

"Leave it alone Bundy. It's over."

Bundy swore one last time and slumped to the ground.

Lindsay smiled.

"Say it again and put on the glasses this time."

"The moment's passed."

Lindsay frowned.

"Put the glasses on! Put 'em on!"

Andrew sighed. He put on the glasses and whipped out his gun again.

"Leave it alone Bundy. It's over."

Bundy didn't move.

"Welp," Lindsay shrugged, "I'm gonna go to work. See you later, Andy."

"Yeah bye," Andrew smiled, as he headed back upstairs to finish _Halo 4_.


	7. Diddler on the Roof

_**Diddler on the Roof**_

**Act I: If I Had Two Thousand Dollars**

_Shortly after Internet Box Episode 100, in Canada…_

"Hey Mike," smiled Barbara, waving to the pale young man sitting in the corner of the library, "Good to see you. What's hip-hop-happening?"

Mike awkwardly got to his feet, gestured to Barbara to sit down and then slowly lowered himself back down.

"Hey. How you doing? Good?"

"Yeah, can't complain," Barbara said, "Community management keeps me busy. Gotta organise all those conventions and all that. You know how it is."

"Not really," shrugged Mike, "I uh, don't attend that many cons."

"Well you rarely leave the house right? Heck, I'm surprised you organised to meet me out in the city. What's the deal, ha-ha?"

"W-w-well," Mike stammered, "So one of our fans, a Doctor B. Broseph or whoever, totally sent me two thousand dollars. You know, for us to go on a date? So I was uh wondering if you'd be up for that I guess."

Barbara pursed her lips briefly.

"Yeah alright."

"Yeah?"

"Sure. We're friends. Why not? I'm sure we will have a lovely time."

"Yaaay," cheered Mike carefully, taking careful consideration to conceal his boner as he flailed happily, "I have got the coolest plans for this. Get ready for me to blow you. Your mind I mean. I'm going to blow your mind."

"I know, Mike," said Barbara, "So what do you want to do first?"

"We should watch ponies together!" squealed Mike excitedly.

Barbara frowned slightly, betraying her lack of enthusiasm.

"Well… no. Let's not."

"Oh," said Mike, his grin faltering, "Well… yeah that's cool. I've got a back up plan. Don't worry, I came prepared."

Barbara looked at Mike expectantly.

"So what's next?"

"Well, we could kiss?" suggested Mike, "I could show you how good I am with my luscious, soft lips."

Barbara shrugged. YOLO right?

The pair leaned towards each other, breathing heavily. They were poised an inch from each other, so close it was enough to drive any budding Internet Box fan fiction writer wild.

You could taste the shipping. And surprisingly, strawberry flavoured lipstick as worn by Barbara. Mike was, of course, wearing raspberry.

Barbara closed her eyelids softly, as her lips brushed against Mike's.

Mike however, kept his eyes open the whole time. It was kind of unnerving.

Barbara pulled back, slowly opening her eyes to meet Mike's.

"Huh. You know, your lips were actually pretty soft. Like girl-soft."

Mike grinned with a mix of nervous energy and misplaced confidence.

"Yeah, you right."

"So what now?"

Mike laughed.

"Okay, I lied. I only planned as far as ponies."

Barbara smirked bemusedly.

"Yeah I figured. Come on, there's a Tim Horton's down the street, let's go eat."

* * *

**Act II: Far From the Hypno I Love**

_Meanwhile, in also Canada…_

Dylon was sleeping in his bed. On his bedside table, lay a pair of scissors and a Spiderman costume. There also sat a clock which read '8 o'clock'.

"Zzz…" snored Dylon, the statement rather apt considering the situation.

Suddenly, Dylon shifted under his K-On! quilt as a sharp tapping came from the window.

Slowly, Dylon roused from his unconscious state.

"W-Whosever?"

There came a faster tapping from the window, this time more urgent.

Dylon sighed, struggling awake and then throwing off his nerdy weeaboo quilt as he got up. Soon as he was stiff and upright, he approached the window.

Bleary eyed, he looked through the glass and gasped in shock.

It was Andrew, his typically red skin painted yellow and a white furry ruff around his neck. Dylon instantly recognised that Andrew was dressing (or cosplaying) as Hypno, the Hypnosis Pokémon.

"I always dreamt this day would come," he whispered reverently under his breath, as he unlocked the door.

Andrew smiled, pressing his finger to his lips.

"Shhh."

Prying the window open, Andrew entered forcefully, followed in quick succession by Kerry.

Kerry was dressed as what Dylon could only guess was some sort of stripper-cowboy hybrid. At least, that's what best explained the assless chaps and the ten-gallon hat.

"Oh Dylon," sighed Andrew, in his husky, sensual voice, "Get in my butthole."

Dylon smiled.

"Let's touch butts."

"Hey I'ma take my pants off real quick," said Kerry.

"Put it in there," rasped Andrew, "Come on man, don't leave me hanging."

Dylon shared a meaningful glance with Kerry. The mischievous glint in Kerry's eye told Dylon that they were on the same wavelength.

Andrew's eyes widened as he realised what the pair were planning.

Oh my god, Andrew thought to himself, they're gonna double-team me.

And boy, did they ever.

Dylon took the front, Kerry brought up the rear.

It was like a tomato sandwich, dripping with juices and sweat, meaty contents thrusting inward with furious passion.

All this talk of sandwiches was making Kerry and Dylon hungry. Kerry looked at Dylon meaningfully, glancing down at Andrew hungrily.

Dylon nodded and the pair descended onto Andrew with their teeth, tearing into him, swallowing large chunks that slid down their throats purposefully.

Andrew screamed in agony and pleasure, as the pair thrusted and bit into him and then pulled out.

Suddenly, Ray walked in through the door, carrying a bag of flour.

"Dude, what the fuck is this?"

Ray dropped the flour, a white cloud expanding forth.

"Are you guys cannibals now? Andrew, what is this?"

Andrew flailed helplessly, with his remaining limbs.

"I was double-teamed! I couldn't take them both at once!"

Dylon and Kerry turned to face Ray, speaking in eerie unison.

"Walk away Ray. This doesn't concern you."

Andrew looked at Ray pleadingly. His eyes seemed to say 'help me' and he was mouthing the phrase as well.

Ray measured his options.

"I don't need this."

And with that, Ray picked up the bag of flour, dusted off his pants and exited stage left.

* * *

**Act III: Beat It**

_Meanwhile, back in Canada…_

Mike and Barbara's date was progressing about as well as one could have hoped for.

After a brief trip to Tim Horton's, the duo had eaten a nice lunch (which Barbara had paid for) and had then gone to see a movie.

They ended up seeing _Pacific Rim_. Mike gave it his seal of approval. Barbara thought it was okay.

"Pretty good movie, not going to lie," offered Mike as the pair exited the cinema.

"Yeah, it was alright," conceded Barbara.

"Yo Barbara, Mike, that you?" came a voice from behind the pair.

Barbara swivelled around rapidly, a shiver sent down her spine by the voice.

"Hello guys. It's me, Sonny88p."

"Shit, now you're hijacking our date?"

Sonny88p smirked arrogantly.

"You guys are on a date right now? Jeez Barbara, I mean, you're no Scarlet Johansen… but Mike? You know that question was a joke right?"

"Fuck you Sonny88p," scowled Barbara, "Mike's my friend. He's not some loser who… Mike's… cool."

"Yeah!" added Mike, "I'm cool!"

Sonny88p narrowed his eyes gleefully, relishing his villainous role.

"Ha-ha, you're serious? Jesus, if you needed a pity date, I'd begrudgingly help you out. I mean, let's face it, you're not hot but I'm willing to throw a dog a bone every now and-"

At that moment, Barbara's fist cut off Sonny88p.

Seizing on his weakness, Mike bravely kicked the popular questioner in the balls. Twice.

Sonny88p sunk like the S.S. Barbara88p. OTP denied.

"Fuck you!" Barbara yelled defiantly.

"Yeah, fuck you dude!" added Mike, highfiving Barbara before leading her out the door.

The two ran out into the Canadian streets, fleeing the cinema and any possible repercussions from the cops.

"Ha-ha, wow, fucking got 'em."

Barbara smiled impishly.

"I've wanted to do that to that NGF for a long time."

Barbara took a deep breath, before checking her phone for the time. She turned to face Mike.

"Well I'd better head home. Lay low for a while I guess. But I had a lot of fun tonight Mike."

Mike smiled happily.

"Yeah, me too."

Suddenly, Mike blushed and twiddled his thumbs nervously.

"So uh… you want to do this again sometime? We could catch a movie, maybe Equestria Girls in still in theatres. So uh, how about it?"

Barbara looked deep into Mike's eyes, as though staring into his very soul.

"Nope."

"Yeah," Mike said, watching the blonde walk off into the night, "Fair enough."


	8. Death of the Author

_**Death of the Author**_

Doctor B. Broseph was sitting in the school library, typing away on his laptop.

He wore a grey jacket, and lighter grey shirt, complemented by blue jeans. Two ear phones hung from his ears, his iPod blaring the latest episode of the Internet Box.

Sneezing lightly, he looked to his right, examining the rows of bookshelves for anyone who might be nearby.

When he was certain that no-one was watching, he disconnected from the school wifi and opened a new document in Microsoft Word.

It was time, he thought to himself, for the final chapter in his fan fiction 'The Internet Box Anthology of Horror.'

Cracking his knuckles, he tapped his keyboard as he brainstormed what to write for the final chapter.

Perhaps he should write a story about skeletons… No, he thought, he'd covered skeletons pretty extensively already. Hell, he'd titled at least three of the stories as the 'Bones Trilogy' as all concerned murderous skeletons.

So skeletons were right out. Then what next?

Perhaps cannibalism, he pondered.

No, the last chapter contained cannibalism. Actually, even a few of the skeleton stories contained cannibalism as well.

That well was long dry.

Hmmm, maybe I could tie it into one of the other stories, Doctor B. Broseph thought, maybe shoehorn in another Poképasta? Explore the idea of cat possession? More ship fics?

No, this was to be the final chapter. It needed to stand alone thematically and somehow tie the whole thing together.

Doctor B. Broseph sighed.

There was only one real avenue left to explore.

He would have to go Meta.

It was time to break the fourth wall.

"It's the only way to proceed," he muttered under his breath, "It's the only way to escalate the stakes and conclude the anthology in any meaningful way."

"You say something?" came a voice from his right.

Doctor B. Broseph turned to the desk adjacent. A confused student was staring at him warily.

"Oh sorry," Doctor B. Broseph said apologetically, "Just thinking aloud."

He turned back to his laptop, rereading everything he had written.

"He turned… back to his… laptop," he read aloud as he typed, "rereading everything… he… had… written."

He paused, hands resting atop the computer.

He glanced at the time: 2:35 PM.

Stroking his chin, he looked up as a female student passed to his right. Seated in the small alcove of the library, it was hard to determine whether anyone was going towards the door directly behind his seat or were just passing by.

He considered this momentarily, noting the three possible directions from which someone could approach.

To his right they could come up or down the library to approach him. To his left, they could enter the door behind him.

There were no windows and no other alternative points of entry.

"Now we're talking," Doctor B. Broseph muttered under his breath.

He looked over his shoulder to inspect the door behind him. A small plaque fixed next to the handle read '101b – Store Room 5'.

A store room, he thought, there'd likely be no escape through there. A dead end, filled with office supplies and false hope.

The perfect place to corner a victim.

As if on cue, the Internet Box crew burst onto the scene, four coming up the corridor and another four coming down to meet him.

"There he is!" yelled Andrew.

"That's the guy behind all this!" screamed Barbara.

"Let's get him," added Mike.

The group surged towards him.

Doctor B. Broseph scooped up his laptop and spun around.

He, of course, had no other option than to escape momentarily into the supply room.

Locking the door behind him, he continued to tap away at his laptop.

The show had to go on.

"I am the White Knife who cuts through the darkness!" came a triumphant yell from the other side of the door as the crew began ramming the door.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"C'mon guys, it's a supply room! He's got nowhere to go! Bash the door down!"

"You're powerful Dylon!" came a cheer as the door was slammed yet again.

Doctor B. Broseph huddled in the corner, sweat dripping down onto his laptop.

He was writing himself into a corner here, surely he could pull a Deus Ex Machina and get the hell out of dodge.

And yet, that would be against the spirit of the horror anthology right? Can't have a horror story without a few victims, he thought solemnly.

"Hey dude, open the door. We just want to stop writing all these fan fictions. Nobody needs to get hurt," came Kerry's voice from the other side.

There was a brief silence.

The Internet Box Crew burst into laughter.

"Just joshing you man, we're totally gonna kill you."

The banging started up again.

Doctor B. Broseph looked down at his laptop in panic. He was in way over his head here.

What was the point in dying for a fan fic that only had like seventy views anyway? I mean, the only reason it got that many was because Sonny88p linked to it in the official Internet Box chat, he reasoned to himself.

Hell, out of all the fan fics he had posted to the site, this had the least views out of any. Which was nuts considering other fics he had written included a Terminator x Back to the Future crossover and numerous Ben 10 ship fics.

"How the hell did 'Omegle presents: Destiel, a fan fiction' get more views than this anyway?" he scoffed under his breath, "That wasn't even drafted; it was literal adaptions of Omegle conversations."

Crash.

An axe head had split through the door frame, leaving a sizable hole in the middle of the door.

Barbara placed her face in the hole, grinning like a maniac.

"Howdy!"

"Goddammit Barbara," came Ray's voice as the axe swung into the door again. With each thud, Doctor B. Broseph shuddered and twitched in anticipation.

Finally, the hole was large enough for Mike to put his hand through and unlock the door.

"Hello little boy," Mike whispered threateningly, "Midnight Mike is here to play."

Doctor B. Broseph gulped audibly. As the Internet Box crew slowly surged through the door, he realised it was soon about to be all over.

"Et tu, Internet Box?" he cried as the cast members brought knives, axes and clubs all swinging down tobreafjwdjes mxdfdsy smdzs msjdj]

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